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And she came for him endlessly.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was like believing she’d been awake all along, only to realize she’d sleepwalked through her entire life.
He ran his mouth over her thighs, kissed her hot skin, worked his way up her body until he held her in his arms, kissed her. It was like a communion, his taste and her taste mingled, creating a whole new flavor she’d never before known.
“I thought I remembered how good it was,” she whispered, looking up into his beautiful blues. “But I never remembered it like that.”
He chuckled, stroking her hair back from her temple and cupping her cheek. “I’ve imagined it all a thousand times.” He dropped a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “And it’s never been this good.”
Her heart rolled in her chest, upside down and right side up again. He was still there, still holding her, still gazing at her with what she told herself could only be love. Even if he hadn’t said the word. He would—one day, he would.
She trailed her hand down his chest. He’d been shirtless when she knocked on his door, and she followed the arrow of dark hair down to the waistband of his sweats. “You have on way too many clothes. And I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
He gave her the Harrington lady-killer smile. This time, it was all for her. She wouldn’t think about how it had been for anyone else, ever.
He stood, grinning. “I can remedy that ASAP.” He stripped, the soft sweats sliding down his legs until he stepped out of them.
She could only breathe out a simple exclamation. “Oh my.”
Of course she remembered how stunning he was. They swam in the Caribbean all the time, as well as his Pebble Beach pool. And there’d been the hot tub on his San Francisco terrace. But now the room’s lamplight painted his sculpted muscles with bronze, and his tight boxer briefs cupped him intimately. The way she wanted to cup him.
His male beauty stole the breath from her lungs, until she grew dizzy from lack of air. And from her need for him.
He circled a finger at her. “You’re still wearing polar bears.”
She laughed, and pushing herself up, she shimmied out of the pajama top. Then she sat on the edge of the mattress and tipped her head back to look at him. “Let me do the rest. I want to unwrap you like you’re the most precious gift I’ve ever received.”
Desire flickered in his eyes. No, need. Need was wholly different from desire. It was a flame that burned inside him, sparking an answering flame deep within her.
Reaching for him, she slipped her fingers inside the elastic of his briefs. Slowly, ever so slowly, she rolled the fabric down. First, it was just his crown. Her mouth watered. He was so hard. So ready. He could take her now. She wanted that.
But more than taking him inside her, she needed this.
Inch by inch, she revealed all his hard, male splendor begging for her touch, her lips, her tongue.
Could it be possible he was even bigger than she remembered? Maybe it was knowing each other so much better now. Inside and out. The emotion growing right along with the physical, making everything bigger, brighter, better.
The briefs fell to the floor, and he stepped out of them. She could have tasted him then, but she wrapped her hand around him, felt the weight of him, the thickness, the length.
His guttural rasp rolled down to her. “Please. Don’t tease me.”
She looked up into his burning gaze. “I am so done teasing.”
The last twelve years had been one long, agonizing, exquisite tease.
And now it was over.
She bent her head and wrapped her lips around his crown, sucking for a long moment, loving the gasp and groan that exploded from him.
He swore, and she loved that too.
For long, incredible moments, she licked him, tasted a drop of his essence, swallowed it, and wanted more.
Then she swallowed all of him, taking him deep.
Shoving his fingers through her hair, he swore and growled. “Please,” he begged.
For what? For her to finish him? For her to throw herself back on the bed and beg him to take her?
Memories of the last time were suddenly so clear to her. All she’d known after he’d taken her to the peak with his mouth had been the need to have him inside her. She hadn’t done this to him.
But now, she savored the taste of him, the feel of him between her lips, the tremble in his limbs, the tautness of his muscles. Gripping him in one hand, she squeezed his thigh with the other, her nails making small dents in his flesh.
If it was even possible, he grew bigger, harder, filling her mouth.
Until he pleaded, “Let me come inside you. I need that. I want that. I have to have it. Please. Cammie.” Then he swore again.
